


Bloodlines

by MoiraiThanatoio



Series: Droit du Royal [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Episode: s01e10 The Moment of Truth, Family Secrets, Gen, secret royalty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-15
Updated: 2012-01-15
Packaged: 2017-10-29 14:48:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/321014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoiraiThanatoio/pseuds/MoiraiThanatoio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was not that Cendred did not care about his people but rather that Hunith did not dare to have his attention drawn to Ealdor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bloodlines

“I will go to Camelot. The court physician is a friend, he will be able to arrange an audience with King Uther. No one else has to starve.”

Mathew stared calmly at Hunith for a long moment. She was strong, physically as all peasant women must be and mentally as she had shown since arriving in their village with an infant and tales of a dead husband.

“Then go, and I pray he helps deliver us from this scourge.”

When she’d gone, he turned to his wife’s brother. The frown cut deeply across his face. “It is not right to petition a foreign king without applying to our own.”

Matthew sighed. “And yet what can we do? To reach the seat of Celidoine is six days walk. The seat of Camelot only two.”

“The farrier in Dylane owes me a favor. It’s a day’s walk and then three days ride to the court of our King.”

“Then go, and may one of these kings take mercy on our village.”

***

It had been hard to see her son go, but Hunith knew he was destined for more than Ealdor could provide. Bittersweet memories twisted her lips into a half smile, the garden she was tending paying her no mind as she worked at its soil. It would yet yield a winter crop, vegetables to feed their hunger until spring came once more.

The first spring she would not celebrate her son’s birth with him beside her. Hunith pushed the melancholy from her thoughts, focusing on the care that had existed between master and servant. Merlin was where he should be, at Arthur’s side. Their strengths and weaknesses would balance – for the good of Camelot.

“Riders! Soldiers approach!”

She looked up, the half-panicked warning of one of the children drawing her attention. The adults of the village, wary but stronger in their faith in each other, gathered to see who came to their village.

It didn’t take long to realize that the riders wore the colors of Celidoine, the livery of King Cendred’s knights.

Hunith drifted to the back of the crowd, knowing that the population of Ealdor wasn’t sufficient for hiding but ready to try nonetheless.

“Mathew of Ealdor,” a man called, moving to the front of the group. There were maybe thirty of them, armed and trained and more than enough to face Kanen’s men. This man was more herald than knight, though the rider in simple robes carrying a staff marked the main difference between Celidoine and Camelot.

“My husband is dead, my lord. Killed by the raiders.”

“I am sorry for your loss, my dear lady.”

The speaker had a voice Hunith had never expected to hear again. She froze, hands pressed into the rough brick of a wall as she waited and listened with the others.

King Cendred was a large man, hale and hearty despite a life of physical exertion and battle. The men parted to allow him to bring his horse to the front of the grouping. “These raiders will harm no others in your village.”

The rustle of noise rose and fell as the villagers tried to explain all at once. The King’s hand was enough to bring them to silence, a simple gesture commanding respect. His face began to cloud as he demanded an answer.

“Knights of Camelot? Within my borders?”

And with such a simple mistake, the peace would be shattered. Hunith closed her eyes, a single tear wanting to escape but held fiercely at bay. This was her doing, and she would resolve it no matter the personal cost.

“One only, Sire. At my request.”

The villagers parted, as eager to allow her to take the blame as they had been to accept the assistance she’d found. Life in the outlying areas could be fickle and hard, so did become the people that lived in those areas.

“Hunith?”

The King’s incredulous exclamation silenced any other voice, each ear straining for the hint of gossip that his tone carried.

She walked slowly towards the men, her pace steady and her head held high. “Prince Arthur of Camelot showed us how to repel the raiders. He came alone, a personal errand.”

“And how did a prince come to a personal errand in Ealdor?”

Hunith looked away, seeing now that the balance Fate required for the lives of the village was not just hers to pay… it was her son’s. “He followed my son, Merlin, from the court.”

“The child lived?”

The King’s question was a demand for answer. Hunith chose her words carefully, not wishing to anger him further with the truth.

“He resides in the castle, as part of the royal household.”

Cendred’s face told Hunith that only the grace of luck spared her this day. “Then the pall of mourning will lift in Celidoine.”

“I don’t understand, Sire,” she rushed the words.

“Percival was taken by a sickness. Ceridwyn before him.” The King’s expression darkened with honest grief at the loss of his children. “Hunith, you will join our camp. Herald, Sir Teriston, to Camelot with you and inform them of our coming.”

The King turned his horse back to the clearing that lay fallow after the harvest, but would feed the village again in the spring. “Now, sister, join me and tell me of my nephew and heir.”


End file.
